


Cub

by TheLittleMuse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A/U, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleMuse/pseuds/TheLittleMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry ran away when he was seven and became very adept at wandless magic in order to survive. He even mastered a transformation into an Urban Fox. Just as he was approaching his eleventh birthday he fell into a portal. A portal back to his parents’ time. The time of the Marauders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

***

 

Harry was seven when he ran away. He had never regretted it. Over the years he had managed to gain some control over the ‘accidents’ and realised the Dursleys must have known, or at least his aunt and uncle must have known, one way or another. He had given up trying to figure out how they had known or what, exactly, he was. The question of why they had never told him was easy enough – they thought he was a freak, and he was, he supposed, but he quite enjoyed being a freak.

 

But … there must be others, Harry reasoned, others who told Vernon and Petunia what he was, but then why wasn’t he staying with another freak? Blood relations won out he supposed. Or lost out, when it came to the Dursley’s opinion of him. But whoever had left him at Privet Drive must have realised the Dursleys didn’t want him. They must have been eager to get rid of him, Harry didn’t blame them, he wasn’t anything special, and he wouldn’t have wanted to be lumped with a wailing baby that wasn’t his.

 

But the one question that always nagged Harry, that wouldn’t let go no matter how hard Harry tried: Had his parents been like him? Possibly. He liked to think they were anyway.

 

_A bright green light. A cold high laugh._

 

That was their death, he was sure of it. And if he could only deduce one thing from it, it was that they certainly hadn’t died in a drunken car accident. Harry obsessed over and feared that memory, because he wanted to know, but he never wanted to see his parents’ deaths.

 

The biggest gain Harry had made in controlling his ‘powers’ was his ability to turn into a fox. It was difficult and painful, all those organs and bones grinding together. He had always been overly fascinated with the foxes that occupied the city. It had all started the day Harry had grown a snout, or something nearing a snout, he had been wishing, having gone a week without food, that he could just smell food like the Urban Foxes he saw around did. And then he could. Harry had found a puddle and stared at himself for some time before he rushed off to find food. Ever since then he had concentrated on being able to turn himself more and more into a fox. Sometimes he had got stuck, but that didn’t stop him.

 

In fact, Harry had worked quite obsessively on his fox form, until sometimes it had become dangerous because he didn’t have enough time to find food. Harry had often relied on pick pocketing and petty theft to survive, and now he was very good at it, but he had been almost caught far to often to be comfortable. Having a fox form would make scavenging a lot easier, especially as a fox could digest foods that a human couldn’t.

 

In the beginning he’d been uneasy at the thought of stealing, not wanting to become another bullying thief like Dudley, but an empty stomach and the way the rich folk’s eyes slid over him soon convinced him they could stand to loose a couple of pounds.

 

***

 

Harry’s birthdays had never been celebrated in the Dursley household. If any of them had remembered it, only Dudley ever said anything, and that was to torment him about his lack of presents or friends, and so Harry had started his little tradition of his own to remember it. On his birthday, or the days leading up to his birthday he would take the chance to swipe himself a little extra food and have himself a birthday ‘feast’ in his cupboard. Sometimes he even managed to get himself one of Dudley’s abandoned toys.

 

It was much harder to keep track of the days now he was on the street, but Harry still liked to try and remember his birthday.

 

Harry sat in his little den and eagerly tucked into his leftover pizza he had scrounged from the neighbour’s (it always made him laugh to call them that) bin. He’d got lucky; it was still warm and so instead of rationing it out like he usually would, he was eating it all while it was still all gloriously warm. Sometimes he had to wonder whether fast food places weren’t deliberately helping homeless kids on the sly by making such large portions. After all, they didn’t want to ruin their image of being greedy corporations, would they?

 

It was on his eleventh birthday when his life changed forever. All he could ever remember was that it felt like he’d been hit by something very heavy, that it looked like everything was flowing backwards before, unsurprisingly, unconsciousness.

 

***

 

Professor Minerva McGonagall was looking through the list of the soon to be first years. Specifically, looking for the Muggleborns, which would soon become her responsibility in individually introducing them to the wizarding world. Unlike most of her colleagues, McGonagall kept up to date with Muggle dress, technology and Muggle news in order to not draw attention to herself when she was collecting the Muggleborns. She had heard it had become quite a game on Diagon Alley to spot her in Muggle dress with the Muggleborns.

 

Her current problem was one particular name that had appeared on the list. Firstly the magic couldn’t seem to decide whether the boy was Muggleborn or not. Perhaps it was halfblood brought up by Muggles and therefore unaware of their heritage. The lists (though rarely) had shown such children before, although rarely.

 

Her second problem was that the child was named Harry _Potter_. She hadn’t heard of any other Potter children, and it was extremely unlikely that that the Potter clan would throw a child out. She knew the name was not so uncommon in the Muggle world, however.

 

Her third, and most immediate, problem was that the child seemed to be living on the streets. McGonagall quickly changed into her Muggle clothes. She was determined to get to Harry Potter as soon as possible.

 

***

 

Harry woke up and was immediately tense. His first thought was that he had been attacked, but he didn’t seem to have any injuries, his battered watch was still on his wrist, and his few remaining coins were still in his pocket. Harry froze when he spotted an abandoned newspaper, then hurried to check another one. It seemed he’d _time travelled_. Odd things were always happening to him but this beat them all – even turning into a fox.

 

Just then a tall, stern looking lady appeared before him with a small pop. Harry did the only thing his brain thought reasonable at that point. He fainted.

 

Harry woke to see the stern woman crouching over him holding a stick. He stared at it for a second, “Is that a wand?”

 

“Very perceptive, Mr Potter. What lead you to think so?”

 

“You weren’t holdin’ it like you were goin’ to hit me. More like it was doin’ something. Just sitting there,” Harry couldn’t tell how he knew the stick … wand was responsible for him waking up, but it was like he could feel it. Then something hit him, “How d’you know my name?”

 

“Indeed, the reason I am here. Perhaps we could adjourn to somewhere more comfortable? I can see a small café over there that should suit.”

 

Harry glanced at his dirty, torn clothes and for the first time in a long time felt a little embarrassed, “I aint exactly dressed for nice places.”

 

The lady waved her wand again and his clothes changed, then she waved it again and it felt like his skin was clean. She held out a hand to help him up, which Harry ignored. He didn’t like relying on anybody else. The lady pursed her lips but didn’t say anything and they walked to the café. They sat and the lady ordered drinks

 

“Now then, as to the reason I am here,

 

_Yer a wizard, Harry._

 

I have come to inform you that you are, in fact, a wizard. What we call a Muggleborn wizard and as such you are invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My name is Professor McGonagall and I teach Transfiguration. I know this is a shock, but can you think back to anything that happened, perhaps when you were angry or happy?”

 

Harry nodded, he had, after all, spent a long time cultivating his powers, even if he didn’t understand them. This McGonagall woman didn’t seem to expect him to be so advanced though, he would have to keep that quiet, he didn’t want to show his hand so early. Most children probably didn’t have to use their powers to survive, though, which was probably why he was more advanced. “I don’t have any money to pay for…” Harry silently cursed this McGonagall for making him more embarrassed in a few minutes than he had been in years. He kept his lips tightly shut, though. This seemed to be like a good opportunity, and he didn’t want to ruin it.

 

“Hogwarts has trust funds set up for those who cannot pay. We shall also have to find some accommodation for you,” Harry flinched, he didn’t like others being in control of his life, “Now, for a question that may be a little more sensitive. You seem to have appeared out of nowhere, Mr Potter. Were your parents-”

 

“My parents are dead. Died when I was a baby,” Harry had just one photo that he had stolen before he had run away, he had found it in the attic when Aunt Petunia had ordered him to clean it out. He wasn’t going to show this McGonagall woman that, especially since this seemed to be the past.

 

_JAMES AND LILY DIE IN A CAR CRASH? IT’S AN OUTRAGE – A SCANDAL!_

 

Harry suppressed a smile. At least the … memories … premonitions? Alternate life? Gave him some idea of who his parents were.

 

“I understand, Mr Potter. I think for now we should purchase your school equipment, and find you some temporary accommodation,” Harry’s eyes flashed at having his life so suddenly and completely controlled, but the information he seemed to be getting, and the prospect of something better waiting kept him silent. Besides, it really seemed that he had no choice. There was one thing though.

 

“One thing. I can read, and write, even. But I’ve missed loads.”

 

“Understood. Tutoring shall be arranged before and during term. Now come along.”

 

***

 

“Ah, Mr Potter, Mr Potter, my you are enigma. Which is your wand arm?”

 

“My … right,” Harry said. McGonagall, who was now standing sternly behind him, had told him that his ‘wand arm’ was equivalent to being right handed or left handed, and that, if he was asked, he would be asked which was his wand arm rather than right handed or left handed.

 

“Mmmm, hold it out. I see, I see.” Ollivander’s long, tapered finger reached out and touched Harry’s scar. Harry jerked back.

 

“Mr Ollivander, is this necessary?” asked McGonagall. Ollivander didn’t seem at all daunted by her tone.

 

“Mr Potter’s magic seems to be unique in a way I cannot quite identify,” instead of being put off, Ollivander seemed to be quite excited by the prospect, “a challenging customer, but never fear, I haven’t failed yet. The wand chooses the wizard, see.”

 

As Mr Ollivander had predicted, Harry went through wand after wand until eventually Ollivander pulled down a case from a very top shelf. By now Harry was very tired and couldn’t bring himself to care much. He’d been managing just fine without a wand. But, as he had with all the others he picked up the wand and gave it a wave and all of a sudden a warm feeling swept through him and he knew, somewhere deep inside, this was the wand for him.

 

“Wonderful! And so curious. Curious, very curious.”

 

“It so happens that the phoenix that gave its feather for this wand, gave one other feather. Just one. And that young man is a most curious fellow.” Ollivander’s eyes gleamed with a hungry fascination.

 

_Its brother gave you that scar._

 

***

 

Harry sat in Madam Malkin’s waiting for Madam Malkin to find him some well fitting second hand robes. Luckily for him plenty of good quality robes were returned to Madam Malkin every year as the students had grown out of them, or they were leaving Hogwarts, so Harry would have plenty to choose from.

 

There was another boy sitting next to him, who had said ‘Hi’ to him awkwardly and both found themselves unable to think of anything to make a conversation about and they were both relieved when Madam Malkin returned.

 

Somehow, Harry thought, the trip to Madam Malkin’s should have been more significant. Then he wondered why he thought that.

 

***

 

Harry sat in his room in the Leaky Cauldron feeling happier than he had ever been in his life. He had a room! An actual room, with a bed and windows and space. He liked McGonagall infinitely more now – she had obviously seen his need for independence, although she had no doubt asked Tom to keep an eye on him. He would have to clamp down on his instinct to run away once he was actually at Hogwarts, but he would deal with that when it came. The thought of the school made him both excited and brought him out in cold sweat, and he hadn’t even seen the school.

 

He didn’t think much of the tutor, Jane Fisherman, though. Apparently she was a recent graduate who was ‘looking to go into social services.’ He had hidden his snort of derision, when had the social services done anything for him? When he was at the Dursleys and when he had run away they had just turned away and ignored him. That didn’t stop him trying in his lessons though. He’d been given this one chance for a new life at Hogwarts, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

 

And then, suddenly, it was time. He was getting the Hogwarts Express tomorrow.

 

***

 

A/N – And that’s the first chapter! And yes, Harry is getting memories/premonitions (who knows which it is;) of his original life.

Also, this is a smart!Harry story, rather than a super!Harry story – it’s shown in canon that when Harry is really dedicated to learning to something he can do extraordinary magic, such as producing a corporeal patronus, something most adult wizards can’t do, when he’s thirteen. So if he obsesses over becoming a fox, he can do it, eventually.

 

Next time… we meet a group of unlikely looking wizards who will one day become the great Marauders!


	2. Chapter 2

Harry stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, determined not to let it show that he’d never been on a train before. Eventually he found a carriage that was empty apart from one sandy haired boy who was nose deep in a book. Harry stuck his head in, “Can I sit here?” the boy nodded and put down the book. Harry glanced at the luggage rack above the boy’s head which had a trunk with the peeling words, ‘Professor R. J. Lupin’ on them. “Professor?” Harry asked with a smirk. The boy smiled shyly,

 

“Parent’s joke,” he said, “I’m Remus, by the way.”

 

“Harry Potter-”

 

Just then two more boys burst into the apartment, one with the other in a headlock, and froze when they noticed Remus and Harry. Harry stopped and stared too – one of the boys looked freakishly like him, they could’ve been brothers. Harry was immediately glad he had (once he was confident McGonagall was being genuinely nice to him) begged McGonagall to get him some contact lenses. Once he had explained what they were, McGonagall had been immediately enthusiastic, muttered something about ‘Quidditch’ and dragged Harry off to be a test dummy. After several hours of McGonagall trying out various charms, Harry had eventually ended up with contacts that he could keep in all the time, and they wouldn’t irritate his eyes, and that would adapt to any changes in his eyesight. Harry had offered to do any work in order to help pay, but McGonagall had given a small smile and told him that she would allow Harry a small percentage when she patented the contact lenses to the wizarding world.

 

The two boys recovered quickly and stood up straight, “Well hello,” said the Harry replica, “I’m James Potter-”

 

“Sirius Black-”

 

“Natural enemies, a Potter and a Black-”

 

“But I’m the black sheep of the family-”

 

“Or the white sheep-”

 

“Or the rainbow sheep,” Remus interjected dryly. James and Sirius beamed as Remus looked slightly embarrassed.

 

“Indeed,” said James, “and who are you two?”

 

“Remus Lupin,”

 

“Harry – Harry Potter.”

 

James frowned, “Well I don’t know of any missing cousins or secret brothers. Merlin, I’ve got an evil twin. I’ve always wanted an evil twin!”

 

“I’m not your evil twin,” _I’m 90% sure you’re my Dad. And it hurts_ , “I’m Muggle Born.” It was the story he and McGonagall had decided on, since saying anything else would provoke too many questions. Harry laughed at the look of exaggerated disappointment on James’ face as the door opened again. Everyone turned at once to face the newcomer who jumped back slightly at the sudden attention. He was a small, slightly round boy with an open face.

 

“A-any room?”

 

Sirius swept his arm back as if presenting a magnificent hall, “Plenty,” he said, “plenty.” The boy hesitated, “Sit down,” Sirius said in a voice that was almost a command. The boy sat.

 

“So what’s your name?”

 

“Peter Pettigrew.”

 

The talk then turned to houses. James proudly proclaimed that his family had been in Gryffindor for generations and he was going to follow them to, “Become a legend!” Sirius then said his family had been in Slytherin for generations and so he was going to become a Gryffindor.

 

“I don’t know,” said Harry when it was his turn, “I guess … Slytherin,” Harry knew when the atmosphere in the carriage suddenly went cold that he had said something wrong. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact Sirius was rebelling by wanting to be in Gryffindor, but Harry couldn’t figure it out.

 

“Why?” asked James sounding like he was forcing his voice to remain even.

 

“Well, I’m not particularly studious, like a Ravenclaw,” _especially since I haven’t really studied since I was seven, and then I had to keep my marks low so as not to embarrass ickle Duddikins. But I will catch up, so perhaps I am_. “I don’t know much about kindness and justice, so I don’t think Hufflepuff’s for me. I’m not exactly the type to go running at somebody and break their nose,” Harry said, gesturing at his small, thin frame, “so I’m not brave. I’d be more likely to go being their back, so … cunning.”

 

James relaxed slightly and muttered, “Of course, you couldn’t know,” he leant forward, “Now, Harry, whatever the ‘attributes’ of Slytherin originally meant,” he scowled, as if admitting that Slytherins meant be anything other than evil was painful, “the House has now been taken over by the Pureblood Supremacists, you know what those are?” Harry nodded, “You’re a Muggle Born, Harry, you wouldn’t last a day. Besides,” James leant back imperiously, “I disagree on your assessment.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. Whether from in front or behind it is always a brave, noble thing to confront an evildoer. Besides, one always needs cleverness and cunning when constructing pranks,” James and Sirius gave identical evil grins and Harry found himself smiling too. Life at Hogwarts was certainly not going to be quiet. His life had never been quiet, but never had it promised to be quite so much _fun_.

 

Sirius turned abruptly to Peter, “What House do you think you’ll be in?”

 

“I want to be in Gryffindor. Most of my family’s been in Gryffindor, and it’s definitely the best House. I think I can manage it.” James and Sirius nodded as Harry and Remus just watched. It was the answer they had been expecting. They all turned to Remus, who didn’t even need to be asked.

 

“My Mum thinks Ravenclaw, my Dad thinks Gryffindor,” Remus said, “I don’t know really.”

 

James spread his arms expansively, “We’ll all be in Gryffindor together,” he announced. Remus gave a startled smile which he quickly hid, but Harry recognised. Remus Lupin, for whatever reason, had never expected to gain friends.

 

It was not long after James had decided that they were all going to be in Gryffindor together that he decided that he and Harry must be related somehow. Harry had shrugged and didn’t bother telling James he was Muggle Born again, but inside a little fire had been lit. Harry had been longing for a family for so long that the constant ache had become unnoticeable over the years, he had stopped looking at the families that walked by, thought of the Dursleys in terms of carefully cultivated hate, and refused to acknowledge his obsession over the memory of the green flash. Yet here he was, sitting opposite the boy who would one day become his father. Harry smiled, he might not be James Potter’s son in this reality, but it seemed he had, and everyone else sitting in this carriage, had been made family none the less.

 

At some point a witch came round pushing a trolley of sweets. Between the five of them (mainly James and Sirius) they bought the entire trolley. Harry felt slightly worried, but the witch just smiled, tapped the trolley with her wand and the trolley was filled with sweets again. At their astounded looks she said, “You don’t think one trolley is enough to feed a whole train full of students? There’s a portal at the bottom that gives an automatic refill.”

 

…

 

As Harry walked through the castle doors, amongst the awe and wonder Harry felt a niggling sense of déjà vu and gave a small sigh as he realised that would probably happen quite often now.

 

…

 

Sirius was one of the first to be called up to the Sorting Hat, which took almost no time in Sorting him into Gryffindor. There was a threatening silence from the Slytherins and the clapping from the Gryffindors was hesitant at first, but Sirius didn’t seem to notice. As he walked to the Gryffindor table he paused to give McGonagall a wink before taking his seat.

 

Remus was the next in their group and he walked up white and shaking. Dumbledore gave him the slightest nod of his head, which seemed to give Remus a bit more confidence and he took a little more time than Sirius, but was Sorted into Gryffindor.

 

When it was Peter’s turn he scurried up, trembling almost as much as Remus. Peter’s Sorting was one of the longest of all the First Years, but he too was Sorted into Gryffindor.

 

Then it was Harry’s turn and the nerves hit him. He felt like he could feel every single eye on him in the Great Hall and then the Great Hall disappeared as the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes.  

 

_‘Ah, Harry, we meet again,’_ said a small voice, _‘or is the first time? It’s all so confused.’_

_‘Don’t tell,’_ Harry thought as hard as he could.

‘ _Don’t worry, I won’t. Your mind is even more interesting than the last time. And yet, I think Slytherin would suit you even less than last time.’_

_‘What?’_ It was what Harry had hoped for, but surely he was even more of a backstabber now. He’d had to be, to survive-

_‘That is my point, Harry Potter. You did what you had to do to survive, and so you will never do anything more than survive if I send you to Slytherin, though it seems natural. You are brave, what other seven year old boy would have the courage to run away, and stay away, even when they realised what the outside held? You have courage, and a noble heart, though you have buried it. You need your Gryffindors to uncover it, and so you will go to-_

GRYFFINDOR!

 

The Hat was pulled off Harry’s head, and he blinked, feeling somewhat disorientated but soon a large grin crept across his face and he walked to his friends and watched James get Sorted into Gryffindor the moment the Hat touched his head.

 

…

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry woke up the next morning and nestled into his pillow, kept his eyes tightly shut and just listened as James and Sirius made it their mission to wake up the whole of Gryffindor Tower. Gryffindor Tower began shouting back, with the older students lazily throwing spells from their beds, which of course didn’t deter James and Sirius in the slightest. When Harry refused to ‘wake up’ James and Sirius, whilst dodging the odd pillow, lamp and bat bogey hex, decided on a new tactic – burying Harry in pillows and sitting on them. Harry eventually, due to a lack of oxygen, gave in.

 

Eventually they all made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast as James and Sirius discussed names for their little group. “It’s important,” said James, “if we’re going to be the greatest, most pranktastic group of friends to ever grace the Halls of Hogwarts, and be remembered for generations to come, we’ve got to have a name.”

 

“I didn’t agree to the pranking,” said Remus.

 

“Remus-Remy-Roodle-Noodle,” said Sirius, turning to face Remus, “Don’t you ever want to have a bit of fun? We won’t hurt anybody, just … make them laugh.” Remus sighed and shrugged. Sirius grinned in triumph.

 

“How about The Adventurers?” asked James.

 

“Too bland,” said Harry.

 

“The Lions?” said Peter, timidly.

 

“Already kinda taken by Gryffindor. How about The Famous Five?” said Sirius.

 

“Taken,” said Remus, “It’s a Muggle book series about a group of children who go adventuring, so I suppose it could fit. Except it’s really four children and a dog,” he looked at Sirius, “You could be the dog.”

 

“Jerk,” replied Sirius, “What about, say … the Fabulous Five.”

 

“Really?” said Harry, “What about the Fidgety Five since you can’t keep still.”

 

“Hey-” their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the post. A regal looking owl landed next to Sirius and held out its leg for Sirius to take the bright red envelope, which Sirius did with a practiced indifference. The owl then flew away with a dismissive hoot.

 

“Family owl,” said Sirius, “stuck up little bugger,” he gave a sly grin, “Howler on the first day, that must be some kind of record. I guess my dear old Mother heard about me getting into Gryffindor. Well, let’s hear what she has to say.”

 

“GRYFFINDOR! I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO ASHAMED IN MY LIFE! YOU ARE A BLACK-”

 

“I noticed,” said Sirius dryly.

 

“HEIR OF THE ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK! AND WHAT DO YOU DO, YOU DEFY MY EVER WISH. RUN TO GRYFFINDOR, HOME OF FILTH, THE BLOOD TRAITORS AND THE MUDBLOODS!”

 

Sirius stood up and tried to set the Howler on fire, many of the other Gryffindors joining him. Even most students from the other Houses looked angry, except for a few Slytherins who held themselves with an aristocratic effortless superiority and looked mildly amused by the whole thing. The shouting still didn’t drown out the wails of Sirius’ mother until Dumbledore, with a wave of his wand, silenced it.

 

“I shall write to Mrs Black to inform her that such language is not permitted within Hogwarts, no matter what her own, personal belief.”

 

“Thank you, sir,” said Sirius, Dumbledore gave a slight nod and his eyes seemed to settle, just for a moment, directly on ever student within the Hall, as if assessing all their reactions to the Howler and noting them.

 

“So that’s my family,” said Sirius to break the silence, “bundle of laughs, the lot of them.” They all nodded, a silent promise to never talk about Sirius’ family, and carried on eating. Harry was determined to try everything that was offered and scooped a bit everything onto his plate, which had the advantage that he was able to think about what had just happened without anybody trying to talk to him. James had already known just how dark the Black family was, but now Harry, Remus and Peter were just beginning to understand just how much Sirius had rebelled when he had been Sorted into Gryffindor.

 

…

 

“How about The Avengers?”

 

“Taken.”

 

“Dammit.”

 

Harry didn’t comment. He was feeling a little queasy.

 

…

 

James, having heard numerous stories from all the friends of the family, had given them all the lowdown on all the Professors, except for the Defence Professor, who was new. “Slughorn likes to play favourites,” said James to the group, “not that he’s unfair to those who aren’t his favourites, he just has a knack for picking out the brightest and the best. He likes to be the power behind the throne, Cousin Jenkins said, more room to spread out. Mima said that made him Slytherin to the core, just picking out what was best for him, but that he wasn’t bad, and if you were one of his favourites you were pretty much guaranteed a job. Still, he is Head of Slytherin so we’ll have to see.”

 

As they entered the classroom Harry was hit by how warm the room was, despite it being in the dungeons and Slughorn seemed friendly enough. They had Potions with the Ravenclaws, which relieved Harry somewhat as Sirius seemed ready to punch any passing Slytherin, and James would be right there behind him.

 

Slughorn paired them up to brew what he called an, ‘easy, starter potion,’ which Harry, as he read the instructions, was false advertising. Harry was paired with one Gryffindor girls called Amy Waters, who Harry supposed was likeable enough, but he was feeling more and more disinclined to like as she chatted away and he was feeling increasingly sick. Until he was sick, right in their cauldron. It didn’t matter, Harry told himself; they were probably doing the potion wrong anyway.

 

Slughorn sent Harry to the Hospital Wing, giving him directions and making sure he knew which portraits to ask if he got lost so he found the war. Slughorn reassured him that he wouldn’t fail the potion – he could hardly penalise a student for sickness after all. Harry left, relieved, but he couldn’t help feeling that he wouldn’t have gotten off so easily of his surname hadn’t been ‘Potter.’ After all, most of the school seemed to think he was a retaliation of some sort, and James only encouraged the rumours. When Harry asked him why he said, “They’re going to be convinced either way, and if I insist you’re not, they’ll just think you some shameful bastard son, and you’ll suffer for it. Besides, wouldn’t it be awesome if we were related. I still haven’t given up my secret twin theory.”

 

_You look so much like your father. Except for your eyes, you have your mother’s eyes._

 

Harry suppressed a smile.

 

…

 

“I was kind of … over enthusiastic at breakfast this morning and then it was Potions and … all the fumes,” Harry told Madam Pomfrey.

 

“Indeed. Take this, it will calm your stomach down,” Harry downed the potion with a grimace, “Professor McGonagall told me of your unique circumstances,” Harry looked up sharply and before Harry could object to McGonagall spilling his secrets Pomfrey spoke again, “The effects of malnutrition would have been immediately apparent with even the simplest of diagnosis spells. Professor McGonagall warned me ahead of time so I could prepare to help you. Trust me, Mr Potter, your secrets are safe with me. As Nurse as I have kept many student’s secrets and I have never divulged a single one. From now on you will drink a Nutrient Potion before sleep each night and you shall follow a diet to introduce your stomach to foods it will not be used to and therefore reject, as you have found out, and to eating a normal amount of food, as you will be used to surviving on very little.”

 

Madam Pomfrey’s voice held an understanding of his situation, but she didn’t pity him or smother him, which he appreciated. He looked at the diet sheet Madam Pomfrey had given him and scowled but shoved it in his pocket all the same. He didn’t like the Nutrient Potions or restrictive diet Madam Pomfrey had put him on, but he’d follow it. He wasn’t going to be the scrap of a boy who’d existed on nothing on the streets anymore.

 

…

 

“Harry! Are you alright now?” said Peter as he spotted him in the corridor.

 

“Sure. Madam Pomfrey said it was er just a stomach upset. Fixed me up in a second.”

 

“Oh, of course our Harrykins is alright. Could take down a charging Hippogriff,” said James, ruffling his hair.

 

“Call me Harrykins again and I’ll kill you.”

 

“Watch out,” said Remus, “I think he’s serious.”

 

“No, I’m Sirius.”

 

The whole group stopped, “Don’t do that again,” said Remus, “That was just terrible. It was already old by the time you finished the sentence.”

 

“Yeah, you don’t want to be known for one bad joke,” said James, “One good joke on the other hand. The sort of joke that makes you a legend, with lots of other jokes to back you up.”

 

“James has gone into fantasy land again,” said Harry.

 

“Just drag him along and ignore what he says.”

 

“Peter, I don’t think you’re capable of ignoring what James says.”

 

“C’mon, I’m not that bad.”

 

…

 

“Hey guys,” said Remus, “I’ve got, sort of, visit my Mum. She’s been sick you see, so I won’t be around for the next couple of days…”

 

“Aw, we’ll miss you Remus. Tell her the Fellowship of The Pranksters says hi and get well soon,” said James.

 

“I’m not sure five qualifies as a Fellowship,” said Sirius.

 

“Sure it does.”

 

“Anyway, Fellowship of the Pranksters is too long.”

 

“Is not.”

 

Harry didn’t join in, he was too busy watching just how much Remus was fidgeting. Remus was shy and quiet, but he wasn’t usually this nervous, especially as James and Sirius had quickly managed to get him to open up and relax, at least around them. Perhaps he was nervous about being teased for visiting his mother. Harry mentally shrugged, that was probably it, no mystery. And even if Remus did have some secret, he of all people should respect his right to keep them. Still, he couldn’t help being curious. His overly curious nature had got him into trouble before, but he never did learn.

 

…

 

A/N – I’m having far too much fun thinking of names the Marauders went through before they became The Marauders. Any suggestions people?

 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N – Sorry for the lateness of the update. I've been really busy lately, and this chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Anyway, now it's here, please enjoy.

…

Defence Against The Dark Arts soon became one of Harry's favourite lessons (although James told him that was because he hadn't had a chance to fly yet). It was taught by Professor Hinkleworth. She had immediately caught the attention of the class because she was a professional Curse-Breaker, who had come to teach at Hogwarts for a year. Rumours were immediately circulated that she had come to look at the legendary curse on the Defence position for Dumbledore, which she, to the joy of the students, confirmed.

"The trouble with this curse," she told the attentive class, "is that it is placed on an abstract thing. Normally curses are placed on, say, a doorway, to prevent people from entering, yet there is no identifiable object on which this curse is placed. Changing the title of the position has not shaken the curse, nor changing the professor's study, or classroom, or even changing the syllabus."

"Aren't you just a little bit scared, Professor?" asked Sirius with a cheeky grin.

"Even if I cannot shake the curse, Mr Black, I am leaving at the end of the year, so the curse will not force me from my position." Harry wondered, just the same, whether Hinkleworth was not just a little bit scared, none the less. After all, a curse was a curse, and curses didn't tend to let you leave quietly.

…

"How about, 'The Pride of Gryffindor' for a name?" asked James.

"Too punny," said Remus.

"Besides, we're not the 'pride' of Gryffindor," said Peter.

"We will be," James promised.

…

The morning they had flying lessons James was practically bouncing in his seat. "I thought you already went flying loads?" asked Harry, gazing slightly longingly at the bacon. He had tried to sneak a little bit of bacon at breakfast once but Madam Pomfrey had known. He hadn't done it again after the telling off she had given him.

"Of course I've gone flying before," said James, pausing in his bouncing to look at Harry, "But I've never been flying at Hogwarts, with a proper Quidditch pitch, with loads of people to fly with. _And_ they've just got a load of new brooms in. I heard that from Tompkinson, the prefect."

Harry, as scared as he was of flying, couldn't help getting caught up in James' excitement. Sirius was also as excited as James, since this would be the first time he had been flying since his flying privileges had been revoked when he was nine.

They had Quidditch with the Hufflepuffs, most of whom he got on with, in a distant sort of way. They weren't enemies at least. Madam Hooch had them all in a line, with their broomstick on the ground, they put their right hand (or left hand, for those who were left handed) over the broomsticks and shouted, "UP!" Harry's broomstick leapt straight into his hand and he grinned. A sudden feeling of rightness swept through him because the broomstick in his hand just felt like it wanted to be ridden.

Harry looked around, James and Sirius' broomsticks had leapt into their hands on the first try, but not many others had. Peter's had slowly risen on the fifth try and Remus' broom seemed insistant on hovering in between the ground and his hand. Remus had just shrugged and said, "It knows I don't want to ride it. I can't blame it for being reluctant." Harry frowned, reluctance and nervousness had to have something to do with it, as with Remus, but it couldn't be everything. Others had seemed completely confident when commanding the broomsticks, but they hadn't moved, or simply rolled on the ground.

Madam Hooch then told them to fly one lap around the pitch, then land. Harry kicked off, urging his broom to go as fast as it could, dodging in and out of the other students and it quickly turned into a race with James and Sirius. The 'race' ended with Harry in third place, and Sirius turned to him, once they were had landed and said, "You sure you've never been on a broom before?"

"Very sure. Why?"

Sirius gestured to the other students who were flying steadily around the pitch. "Looks like you were born on the broom, Harry," said James, walking over, "with practice you might even become as good as me," Harry rolled his eyes at James' ego, but didn't say anything. James had won the race by a large margin and had clearly been riding all his life, so in a way it was a big compliment.

Madam Hooch soon had them doing other exercises and as they were tossing a ball back and forth James declared that he, Sirius and Harry would become the greatest Chasers Hogwarts had ever seen. "Why you three?" asked Peter with a joking petulance.

"Because we're absolutely brilliant, of course," said James, "listen the three Gryffindor Chasers are leaving this year, if we practice loads this year, we can try out next year and once they see how good we are together we're bound to get in." James had the expression that he always wore when he was planning something mad, and Sirius was already grinning along. "We could be the … 'The Golden Trio' in the team."

"No." said Harry. It felt like something had just kicked him in the stomach.

"Why?" he heard James ask. The vague memories of two people swam into view. Ron and Hermione, some part of him remembered.

"Just … it sounds stupid," Ron and Hermione. The family he'd never had. There was a growing ache in his gut and for the first time he missed his old life. Missed, fiercely, these people he'd never known. That hadn't been born yet. He'd probably never even meet them.

Harry shook his head fiercely. He couldn't … dwell, "Hey, if you hate the name that much I won't say anything," said James, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't hate it," said Harry, "Just we need a name for the whole group, not three of us," James nodded and began discussing names for the group with Sirius, but Remus's gaze lingered for just a second longer.

…

Professor McGonagall had impressed the class by turning into a cat and back again. Harry's eyes had gleamed, perhaps he didn't have to keep that particular skill a secret and his hand shot up, "Yes, Mr Potter?" McGonagall said, her eyebrow slightly raised.

"Professor, can all wizards turn into animals?" he asked.

"An interesting question. All wizards, or witches, have the potential to become an animagus, that is, a witch or wizard or can transform into an animal. The animal that they transform into is not under their control but lies in them, much like a patronus. To become an animagus must under go a series of tests and their training is supervised, after which, they are registered. This is because the transformation can easily go wrong, and even cause permanent damage."

Harry settled back. He had been unknowingly breaking the law and definitely couldn't transform within Hogwarts. He missed his fox form, it was, in a way he hadn't appreciated before, a part of him.

…

It had been months now. Harry had promised himself he wouldn't investigate it, Remus' disappearances bothered him. The others had noticed it but had accepted his excuses, after all, Remus did look permanently ill, so why would it be suspicious if he had to go to the Hospital Wing once in a while? But Harry had noticed something he hadn't mentioned to the others. Remus' disappearances seemed to have developed a pattern. He hadn't quite worked out what the pattern was, but tonight he was going to find out. He was going to follow Remus as a fox. Remus had been looking especially ill all day, and Harry knew a Hospital Wing visit wasn't far off.

That night Harry was fraught with worry, he was essentially planning to betray his friend's trust and follow him as if he were some criminal, not to mention that he was breaking the law. That night the other three seemed to have been infected with Remus and Harry's nervousness and were practically silent as Remus made his expected announcement. Harry slipped off after Remus, staying in the shadows and following his scent, thought his scent seemed a little strange.

Harry followed as Remus met up with Madam Pomfrey and crept to the Whomping Willow. He watched as Madam Pomfrey froze the Whomping Willow and Remus, his face now fully in shadow, walked into the passageway that was now revealed and slipped in after him. The scent was getting more and more strange and soon it was revealed why. Before him stood a wolf, _Werewolf,_ some part of his mind remembered. He froze for a second, because just as he knew he could recognise Remus' scent when he was a wolf, Remus would, when he was human again, remember his. Still, the wolf didn't seem to mind the fox and so Harry stayed because now he knew where Remus got all his injuries he hid so well.

He would deal with the mess in the morning. He just hoped Remus would forgive him.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Sorry it’s been a while since an update. Basically, I was on holiday and then I got ill, (it turns out that trying to do _everything_ in two weeks doesn’t go down so well with the body). Anyway, on with the chapter.

 

…

 

Harry stood still, but submissively as the Wolf experimentally sniffed the fox that had intruded in its den, then the Wolf pushed Harry experimentally with its paw. If Harry could’ve, he would’ve giggled. It seemed like the Wolf wanted to play. They ran around in circles playing tag, Harry slipping in between the Wolf’s legs and the Wolf, occasionally annoyed, picking Harry up by the scruff of his neck.

 

All too quickly dawn came and the Wolf slinked into a corner as Remus re-emerged from the depths of his mind. Harry, prepared for the worst, changed back into his human form and watched him from the other corner. There was a moment of silence as they, both scared and perhaps a little excited, watched each other.

 

“Well?” said Remus, his voice hoarse.

 

“Well what?”

 

“What are you going to do now?” Remus had muttered the question into his lap, seeming genuinely fearful of Harry’s answer. The question threw Harry, as he had expected Remus to be angry with him, not scared of him. Then he remembered, buried somewhere among the bits and pieces he had been learning about wizarding culture, that werewolves were generally shunned.

 

“I’m not – I don’t. I mean, the whole werewolf thing, its fine with me. You’re still … you, I guess,” Harry gave a nervous laugh, “You seemed kinda nice, actually.”

 

Remus tried to smile in return, “I’m not usually like that. Just around animals. People I – well, y’know. And when I’m by myself I … How’d you learn to do that, anyway? Transform, I mean.”

 

“What? Oh, the fox. I guess it’s because I didn’t know I shouldn’t, Muggleborn, remember? And I became – obsessed, I guess, with the urban foxes I saw around. I got stuck a few times, mid-transformation, but by then I’d realised it was possible, so I didn’t give up.”

 

“Oh.” Another long pause, “How did you figure it out? About me, I mean,”

 

“I didn’t, or at least, not fully. I knew something was going on. There was a pattern, but I hadn’t figured what it was, exactly.”

 

“And now you know it’s the full moon.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“The others will guess.”

 

“I don’t think so, not necessarily,” said Harry, “I’m just paranoid. I thought something was off the first time you went away. Who does that? Just suspects a friend straight away? You’ll be fine. I won’t tell, if you don’t want me to.”

 

Remus nodded grimly, lost in the inevitability of his secret being found. One boy had already found it halfway through his first year. Harry may have been just paranoid, but any fool could see a pattern over a number of years. There was no way he could last the full seven. Desperate to distract himself Remus asked, “What made you so paranoid?”

 

Harry hesitated, stilling. Everything he ever knew was screaming at him to change the subject, to not tell. But he knew Remus’ great secret, Remus deserved to know his. Besides, Remus already knew about his essentially illegal animagus ability.

 

And so Harry told him, in stops and starts, about his life, leaving out the time travel and the fact that James was technically his Dad. Even if Remus did believe him, he didn’t want to say it, because he didn’t want it to be true this time round. He didn’t want them to die. He knew, so that meant he could change things. Hopefully.

 

Harry then spent then next couple of hours until the real morning trying to persuade Remus to tell James, Sirius and Peter about his ‘condition’. Remus argued that with their wizarding upbringing they would be a lot less accepting than Harry was. Harry argued that James’ upbringing would be exactly why James would accept him – the Potters seemed to use their vast fortune mainly to help others. Sirius wanted to rebel against his parent’s ideals, and whatever the situation, wouldn’t betray a friend. Peter would most likely be more curious than anything else, but whatever the situation, would follow James and Sirius’ lead, but morning came and Harry had to sneak out before Madame Pomfrey came, the matter still unresolved.

 

…

 

The next few months were hell for Harry, and he couldn’t imagine what they were doing to Remus. Remus had, unsurprisingly, though disappointingly in Harry’s opinion, refused to tell anyone. More than that he had refused Harry’s help when Full Moon came, leaving Harry to hide his flinches when he saw Remus’ injuries, and leaving Remus, who had lived a life of fear and prejudice, so when presented with help, found himself too scared and sceptical to take it.

 

Eventually Harry could take no more, and so ensued a fierce, whispered argument with Remus. Unfortunately (or fortunately) James over heard it, and burst in with all his usual subtlety (i.e., that equivalent to a raging bull) with an unanswerable barrage of questions aimed at both of them. Remus, convinced that he had been found out and his time at Hogwarts was now over, ran. Harry hit James with a weak bombarding spell, briefly knocking him out, before Harry pulled him up, quickly explained what was happening and they both ran after Remus. The subsequent chase around Hogwarts would have been hilarious, had it not been so desperate.

 

Remus was eventually captured and brought back to the dorm where a brief conversation was had where everything was explained to the whole group and Remus was told that his werewolfishness (Sirius’ word) was absolutely fine and accepted among the five of them. There had been a moment when Harry had been genuinely worried that they wouldn’t accept Remus, when James had stepped back and stammered that he didn’t think that someone like _Remus_ could be a werewolf, and Sirius had crowed that this would make his family mad. Peter’s eyes had just gleamed with curiosity, until all three realised that they were only making Remus more scared. James had tried to explain himself, only digging himself deeper, until Sirius poked him and he promptly shut up. Sirius assured Remus he would never tell his family, and that shouldn’t have been the first thought to hit him. Peter said nothing but smiled his quiet, reassuring smile.

 

Then James came up with the Grand Plan. Harry had been quietly wondering how long it would take him, given the story of how the fox had affected the wolf. All of them, like Harry, would become animagus’ (animagi? They weren’t sure. They’d find out) and run with Remus on the Full Moon. Harry was bombarded with questions of how he had achieved the transformation. When Harry couldn’t give any definite answers it was announced, with a collective shudder, that they would visit the Library.

 

Suddenly it all seemed so glorious. They were breaking the rules, but not just for fun anymore. They were doing it in the name of a great cause, the greatest they could think of. They were the lovable anti-heroes, the dashing rogues. The Marauders.

 

…

 

Harry was lying in bed later that night, when all the others were asleep, a smile still playing on his face. Today the thing that had been set to ruin Remus’ life forever had brought them so much closer. Harry had never had friends before, except the ghostlike ones of his other life, but it seemed he had found himself the best friends possible. Remus hadn’t told his secret to the others (although, of course, they knew a great part of it) but he found himself wondering whether he could. These rich boys, brought up by society to revile them, had accepted a werewolf, could they accept a boy who had grown up on the streets, who barely knew how to read and write before he came to Hogwarts, who still marvelled at the food and the soft bed.

 

As Harry drifted off to sleep, Harry thought that he might just be able to.

 

…

 

A/N – OK, so originally the title came from the idea that James would call Harry their ‘cub’ because he can turn into a fox cub (yeah, you know he’s just a cute little fox cub) and that being his ‘Marauder name’, but obviously, that’s not how it quite worked out, although James is just as protective and big-brothery. So now I need some help. I’ve really gone off the idea of Cub being Harry’s Marauder name, since it just doesn’t fit the pattern, so I need suggestions of what Harry’s Marauder name could be, since all the ones I thought up so far are kinda rubbish.

Thanks! And keep those wonderful reviews coming. They’re my writer-lifeline.


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